


Finally

by TeaHouseMoon



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Canon Compliant, Elio’s first time, M/M, One Shot, PWP, Sex, Smut, they’re in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23185291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaHouseMoon/pseuds/TeaHouseMoon
Summary: Apologies for the delay in the updates for my stories. My head has been somewhere else lately, with everything that’s going on.However, this one shot came to my mind, and I thought I’d post it to keep you entertained in the mean time. I’m still very much here, though inspiration has been a bit harder to grasp these days.Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one, and I hope you are all safe out there. Stay home if you can, please. Xx
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 37
Kudos: 196





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the delay in the updates for my stories. My head has been somewhere else lately, with everything that’s going on. 
> 
> However, this one shot came to my mind, and I thought I’d post it to keep you entertained in the mean time. I’m still very much here, though inspiration has been a bit harder to grasp these days. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one, and I hope you are all safe out there. Stay home if you can, please. Xx

The way Oliver kisses him is infuriating.

He skirts his lips and goes lower, to the side of his throat, under his ear and to the curve of his collarbone. 

It feels good, and Elio keeps the palms of his hands pressed to Oliver’s cheeks, feels the gentle burn of the hair along his jaw on his skin, and closes his eyes.

It feels good when Oliver kisses him where his skin is so delicate and vulnerable and it feels good when he lets his tongue peek out to caress, very lightly. 

But Elio is dying for Oliver to kiss him. Properly, on the mouth.

They’ve kissed already, the other day on the berm, and it was wonderful. It was everything Elio was dreaming of - well, maybe not everything; Elio had wanted more, more kisses, but Oliver had stopped them, told him he wanted to be good (whatever that even meant.)

Oliver is a great kisser though, and Elio knows that, and he’s dying to be kissed again.

This time, they’re alone, in a darkened room; in the middle of the night. 

This time, it won’t end in a kiss. This time it will mean clothes off, it will mean no secrets, it will mean skin on skin. 

It will mean sex. 

Sex, with Oliver.

Elio is seventeen and he’s only had sex twice in his life, both times with a girl. He’s never had sex with a man - but tonight, if all goes to plan, if Oliver wants to, he will.

It seems Oliver wants to be playful. 

He kisses him, then pushes him away. Elio wants to growl softly in his chest, like a wolf cub that’s denied his food.

He wraps his arms around Oliver’s neck, lets him smell his skin. He wants to be as demure as possible, yet wanton, available and shameless. He wants Oliver to do anything he wants with him. He’s scared, but also he’s not, he wants to put himself into Oliver’s hands, because Oliver is older and experienced and strong, and he knows what to do. He’ll let Oliver guide him and tell him what to do and where to be - unless Oliver pushes him away again, in which case Elio will growl like a wolf again, though honestly, he’s ready to beg. He’s ready.

Fuck me, Oliver. 

He straddles Oliver on the bed, and there’s a shiver running right through his whole body when Oliver, with his large hands, helps him wrap his thighs around his hips, holds him steady.

They finally kiss, deeply, and Oliver holds his face and the way he breathes, hard, is almost intimidating, but there’s no time to be scared. Elio has always been precocious, so why should he be scared now? Oliver will take care of him. And if he doesn’t, then, lesson learned. But at least Elio will always remember that he had sex with the man he’s in love with.

He takes off his shirt when Oliver asks him to. He doesn’t stop to think - he reaches for Oliver’s shirt, wants it off, too. They tumble down to the bed - and this is what happens in movies, right? Now, in movies, the girl lays back, offers herself, to be undressed by her handsome lover, to be kissed and worshipped and made love to. And Elio isn’t a girl, but Oliver is his handsome lover, indeed.

Oliver pulls his jeans off. Elio is naked. 

Oliver can see all of him. 

Elio shivers.

It seems that Oliver likes what he sees, though. He leans down to kiss Elio on the mouth again. Elio holds his fingers in Oliver’s hair, they’re trembling, for God’s sake why does he have to tremble? He hopes Oliver won’t notice. He doesn’t want Oliver to see that he’s scared, and stop everything. 

But Oliver doesn’t.

“It’s alright,” he’s murmuring on Elio’s skin, kissing down his throat, his collarbone, his chest, his nipples. Then his tummy, and then a hipbone. 

Elio is already so hard, but wasn’t expecting the sensation, a moment later. 

Oh, God.

Oliver’s mouth is hot, and wet, and fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Elio closes his eyes, arches his neck back. His whole body feels on fire. 

Then Oliver sucks, his tongue strokes and Elio wants to lift his hips, have more, more, oh god, please, more. 

The way Oliver chuckles around him, makes him even more tense, it feels even better, and then he hums, and his big hands stroke Elio’s thighs at the same time, and Elio’s eyes want to roll back, and he wants to give Oliver everything, everything...

He tries to breathe, in, and out, his eyes still closed, and he’s honestly about to come, when the warmth and tightness of Oliver’s mouth disappear. 

Elio struggles to figure out how to open his eyes. But when he does manage to, Oliver is kissing the inside of his thighs. Smiling at him gently.

“Hold the sheets,” he nudges at Elio’s hands. “Take a deep breath.”

Elio does as he’s told. His fists tighten around the bunched cotton.

He closed his eyes when he feels the first intrusion - the tip of Oliver’s finger, and then the first knuckle. The oil isn’t cold, thankfully. It only hurts a tiny bit, for now, and he breathes again and squeezes his eyes shut, wills for this to be quick. He wants his body to hurry up, and make this easy.

“God. You’re so beautiful, like this.”

Elio opens his eyes at Oliver’s words, and sees him, above him, and he’s looking at him. Elio makes himself smile. He feels the whole of his skin warm up at the praise. 

A moment later, there’s more pressure - two fingers, he thinks. 

“Breathe,” Oliver says, soft, a comforting sound. And Elio does. 

It hurts, that’s true. But Elio bites his lip, and keeps his eyes closed, and knows Oliver is watching him attentively. He refuses to make a sound. Breathes again, and Oliver’s fingers push inside him, all the way. 

Elio feels invincible.

“Mmh,” Oliver purrs, soft, against Elio’s temple. Kisses it, kisses the curls there. “I can’t wait to be inside of you. So tight and warm.”

There’s a flame of happiness that burns, sudden, in Elio’s chest. He wants to make Oliver just as happy. He wants to make him feel good, so good.

“Yes,” he just manages to say, as he nuzzles Oliver’s cheek with his mouth. “Please.”

Oliver’s fingers leave his body, slowly. Elio keeps his eyes closed - he will watch, next time, because there will be a next time; and then finally he feels Oliver on top of him, holding himself up with his hands on either side of Elio’s head.

“Look at me,” Oliver orders gently, and Elio, of course, obeys. Looks up into his eyes, and Oliver rewards him with a smile.

It feels so sinful, how Oliver’s hands hold Elio’s thighs open; how one of them moves to guide Oliver. Elio swallows, and it feels as if time stops, and also, as if it goes too fast.

There’s pain, a moment later. 

Piercing and intense. Overwhelming for a moment, radiating to the rest of his body, and it makes him cry out even though he was trying not to.

“Shhh,” Oliver murmurs. “It’s okay. ‘T’s over soon.”

He brushes a tear away from Elio’s cheek, so unbearably gentle, though Elio hadn’t even noticed that he was crying. He’s still in pain and it feels like agony, but he squeezes the sheets in his fists like Oliver told him to, breathes, keeps his legs where they are, wrapped around Oliver’s hips even though they want to close, he wants to push Oliver away, he wants to stop him.

He doesn’t really want to. 

“Breathe,” Oliver whispers again. “Like that. Yeah. Shhh. It’ll feel good in a few moments.”

And Elio believes him, and he really wants Oliver to start already, start fucking him like they do in movies and like his body should know how to do, instead of whining in pain. It’s frustrating, and he arches his back, as if moving his upper body would help with the discomfort down below.

It finally feels better, a few moments later. Oliver kisses his mouth. Licks his lips. Pinches his nipples gently with his fingers - and it makes Elio buck up with his hips, and somehow, it doesn’t hurt. Oliver’s hand wraps around Elio’s sex; strokes a few times, and Elio exhales, feeling himself grow hard again. 

It’s like rebirth.

He opens his eyes, dries off tears from his cheek with the back of a hand. Looks up into Oliver’s eyes; they’re blue, and gleaming, and Oliver is smiling at him. He smiles back.

“You beautiful thing,” Oliver tells him.

“I’m okay,” Elio says, his hand goes up, to stroke Oliver’s mouth. “Make love to me.”

And Oliver, smiling, kisses him. Kisses him, deeply, fully. 

Finally. 


	2. Chapter 2

He wakes to the feeling of being watched. 

The eyes are soft and the gaze is loving. Elio can feel it even if his own eyes are still closed, but then his heart beats a little faster, and he bats his eyelids, takes a second to figure out if it was all just a dream. 

But it wasn’t.

Oliver is laying beside him, on the bed. 

His skin is golden and warm. His smile is so tender. Later, Elio will think Oliver’s never looked at him that way before.

His heart gives a squeeze. It’s like panic. It’s like something he wasn’t expecting.

Elio pulls up to sitting, stops for a moment. Oliver’s arm is on his shoulders, his fingers on his collarbone. Why is he touching him like this? Why is he holding him? 

This is not what Elio was expecting, and this is not what should happen. No, no, no.

Elio flinches away from Oliver’s hand. He’s still nude - god, he can feel his nakedness so sharply. They’ve slept together, they’ve spent the night together, naked. Like in those movies, like those couples that wake up the next morning in each other’s arms, whisper sweet nothings to each other, but no, this is not what Elio wanted. Isn’t it? He wanted to have sex with Oliver. And that’s it. Have sex with Oliver, once, have his summer fling with a handsome American student. That’s it, that’s it. Then, he would walk away. His chest full of pride and satisfaction, all his needs fulfilled. Because he got his memory and his experience, and that’s it, everything was easy now.

Instead? Instead he woke with Oliver holding him. Oliver’s body around his body. Oliver’s smell on him, his come inside him. The pain of the act still sharp in his abdomen as he moves to put his clothes back on. 

He needs space.

“Let’s go swimming,” he says, as if that can save them.

He doesn’t even know why he says that. 

Oliver follows him, and Elio tries not to look, but Oliver is quiet, and has already tried to catch his eyes more than once. After Elio avoided him, once they got to the lake, Oliver has stayed away.

Elio swims, and thinks. 

The water is cold on his skin. It washes away everything. 

They just had sex, they should be in each other’s arms now. Kissing in the water, like in that damn movie he keeps imagining. Fucking, again, in the water, Elio’s legs wrapped around Oliver’s waist. 

Elio is getting hard again.

No. No, no. This is not how it should be. 

Oliver tries to talk to him again when they come out of the water, distance still between them.

“Are you going to hold what happened last night against me?”

Elio, finally, looks up into his face. Oliver’s eyes are worried. 

Elio is wrapped into his oversized jumper, and the fact that it covers his body, his chest and his belly and his arms, makes him feel safer. “No,” he responds, shaking his head, even risks a small smile.

Oliver is worried. Oliver is worried about him. About them. Maybe... Oliver cares?

No. No. Of course he doesn’t. 

He just wants to know if this will cause him problems. He just doesn’t want Elio to give him the silent treatment, because they share a house, basically share a room, and it would be uncomfortable if they weren’t speaking. They’re roommates. Not... not lovers. 

That’s why.

Back at the villa, they’ve hardly spoken. Even know, they communicate via a look - Oliver gazes to his door, and back to Elio. But they’re roommates. They’ve already spent the night together, which Elio knows they shouldn’t have done. So, no. No, they need to go back to their own rooms. It’s fine. Elio has had what he wanted. Right? He doesn’t want anything else from Oliver. He’s fine, now, happy. He can go back to how they were before. Oliver will go back to how they were, right? Elio won’t suffer for that, of course not. It’s how it works.

But then, once they are back into their own rooms, the communicating door opens. 

Elio wanted some time to think - everything happened so fast, so much has happened, and he needs to stop for a moment - he needs to make sure he is doing what he’s supposed to, that he’s analysing this correctly. 

But now the door is open, and Oliver is standing there, tall and handsome. Get a grip, Elio you’ve only just seen him, you’ve spent the whole night with him...

“Elio. C’mere.”

Oliver’s voice is warm, and like a few hours ago, like a siren’s call to Elio.

Elio does as he’s asked - pads to him - later, he’ll think about it, and reprimand himself for how eager he’s looked. God. He’s not into Oliver! He doesn’t like him that much. Why can’t he stop just doing everything that Oliver asks...

“Take your trunks off.”

Oliver asks. And Elio does it.

Elio watches, in surprise, almost shock, as Oliver gets to his knees in front of him. As his large hands rise to hold Elio’s hips, steady. As his mouth wraps around him. 

Fuck. 

Elio is hard in seconds. Oliver is so, so good at oral sex. Elio doesn’t have the time now, nor the mental capacity, but if he could he’d start worrying about his own skills in that department - they’ve given each other oral sex last night but oh god, Oliver is so good at it, Elio probably looked really ridiculous and unsexy and incapable and...

And Oliver’s tongue, instead, is heaven. His mouth is paradise. So warm, his lips so tight around him. Elio lifts his hands to hold onto the doorway, closes his eyes, wants to enjoy this. God, yes.

And just how it started, so it stops. Wait, what?

“Well, that’s promising. You’re hard again,” Oliver says, with a chuckle. “Good.”

And with that, he closes the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Clearly this story will have 3 chapters! 
> 
> Please do comment if you’re enjoying this and you’d like to read the next one. I still need your feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> Do comment if you read this and liked it! Would love to hear from you. X


End file.
